Uncertain Times
by Crimsonhearted
Summary: Gil and Catherine's relationship might be changing. GC.
1. Unexpected

Uncertain Times

A conversation between Gil and Catherine. GC.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or anything related to it.

There are slight quotations from the song by Michael Andrews, "Mad World" and Maroon 5, "She will be loved". Neither belongs to me. :)

**Authors Note**: Finally I've finished a piece of writing. I don't know if this will be continued, but I'm thinking about it – time will tell! This is my first fic, and it's very short, but I hope you enjoy.

She relaxed, leaned back and exhaled. Her head hit the hard metal surface of her locker behind her, but she didn't quite notice it; her mind was off thinking about something entirely different than her current position or how comfortable she was.

What an awful day. Sometimes she wondered if she was really capable of being a supervisor. Perhaps she should've stayed in her old job. Safe and sound. Crime scene investigator. With no office. Nothing crucial to decide.

Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she cursed herself of thinking so. She had worked so hard for the position, and now she was regretting it?

"This is a _mad_ world," she spoke underneath her breath, "a _mad_ world."

Opening her locker, she stared a long time at her daughter on the photographs that had been hanging there for what seemed forever. Damn, she had even less time to spend with her these days.

"A sad excuse for a mother. That's what I am."

She heard a quiet knocking on the already wide-opened door. She turned her head towards it in surprise and saw her former boss, Gil Grissom. Her long-time friend. She'd often wondered if they would ever be _more_ than friends, but it was both wishthinking and completely foolish.

Besides, it would never work. Probably never.

"Hey," she said with an empty, drained voice. Again, her head found its way to her hands, doing circle movements on her temples.

His reply was a simple, almost invisible smile.

"Your shift's over," he stated.

"Shift's never over for a supervisor, Gil. You of all people should know that."

He moved towards the bench in the middle of the room where she sat. Then he sighed.

"Being a supervisor is not always rainbows and butterflies. It's.. hard work."

She now faced him, looking into his experienced, blue eyes.

Defeated, she spoke, "I know that, but --- I feel like it's consuming my life. All week. Twenny-four hours a day."

"This is not the first time you feel like that, Catherine. Our job_ demands_ full attention. You can't just plan it as you please."

She shut her locker and stood with him.

"You surely have a way of encouraging people," she said sarcastically, a smile hid in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I am."

She moved past him, laughing.

"Hah, you're not."

Just as Catherine approached the door, he called out to her.

"Catherine."

She turned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I _am _sorry."

"I know that."

Then she left.

Regretting their conversation, Gil hurried to the hallway she was walking.

"Cath!"

She turned again, obviously humoured by the situation.

"_Now _what?" she teased.

"Dinner tonight? At six?"

There was a small pause.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Calmly, but filled with joy, she turned and continued down the hallway, leaving Gil behind with a rare, thoughtful smile. Then he turned, heading in the other direction towards his office.


	2. Dinner and Dreams

**Uncertain Times. Chapter 2. "Dinner and**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI or anything related to it.

**A/N: **Chapter 2 of my fic. Decided to write it right away. So I did. And here's the result. Hope you like:)

Catherine anxiously looked at her watch. It was only a quarter to six; far to early to be showing up, she told herself. She had to be right on time, not early, not late.

She was in her car. Right across his townhouse. Somehow she had managed to fit into a black dress, which she had forgotten and thrown into her closet years ago.

She had lost weight, she figured. No surprise with a job like hers – running around half the time to catch up with a far to speedy criminal.

Her hair fell loosely on her shoulders, completely straightened. It had taken her almost an hour to make it just right, but now that she had been in the rather hot car for the last ten minutes, it was starting to make weird, "I-just-got-out-of-bed"-curls.

She decided to get out of the car – five minutes too early didn't make _that_ much of a difference, and Gil wasn't the type who'd complain about those kinds of matters.

Her high-heels hit the road, and after getting out in the cold October-wind and grabbing her purse from the passenger's seat, she headed to Gil's home and knocked on the door.

She could smell some kind of tasty meat from where she was standing. Barbecued steak, maybe? Whatever it was, it made her hungry.

The door opened. She flashed a wide smile when she saw Gil.

"Good evening," he said, still wearing an apron. He made a gesture for her to come inside, and she hurried and did so.

"Mmh. Smells great," she complimented while looked at his interior decoration. She then turned to face him, and, somehow, managed to see what he was wearing behind the apron; a nice, dark suit with a tie perfectly tied. She continued, "and _looking_ great. I see you've learned how to tie one of those," she pointed at his tie, "looks great."

He smiled at her and made a single nod with his head.

"Thank you. You look great, too. But you should wear a jacket with that," he pointed at her dress.

"I drove here, so it wasn't necessary. But yeah, it's freezing outside, so.. you're probably right."

He gave her a I-told-you-so look, but then continued to the kitchen. "Come with me," he said.

She took off her stilettos and placed them near the door. Then she joined Gil.

She had been right earlier – it was some sort of barbecued meat, looking very tempting. Gil had already put on candlelights, plates, cutlery and a nice-looking tablecloth on his large kitchentable; and two chairs were placed on each side of it.

"Have a seat," he said invitingly and pulled out the chair for Catherine to take seat.

"Thank you," she said, looking at him with a both suspicious and flirtatious glance.

He took seat on the other chair opposite hers.

"I'm glad you could be here." He said. Plain in his usual way, but the small smile on his face told Catherine that he _was_ grateful of her being there.

"Happy to be here." She smiled back, and then looked down at the delicious dishes.

"Shall we?" He held up his fork.

After eating, they made their way to Gil's couch. Both completely full, they practically threw themselves into the soft cushions.

Now that her hair was messed up, Catherine didn't care one bit how the rest of her looked. All she could think of, was how magnificent the dinner was.

"I won't ever have to eat again," she lazily spoke.

"'One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well,'" Grissom quoted a few moments after.

"Shakespeare?" Catherine tried.

"Virginia Woolf."

Catherine let out a big sigh and pulled her legs up the sofa. "I'm tired as hell." She said, hands rubbing her eyes.

"'Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care, the death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast,'" Gil quoted again.

"What, more Virginia Woolf?"

Gil, leaning his head against the armrest, answered with amusement in his voice; "_that_ was Shakespeare, dear."

"Ah, quit the haiku's, Gil," Catherine said, tired, and lay down. Shortly after she fell asleep, and moments later, Gil found himself surrendering to his dreams aswell.


	3. Be Kind to My Mistakes

**Uncertain Times, Chapter 3 – "Be kind to my mistakes"**

**Disclaimer:** Nope. I don't own CSI or anything related to it. :)

Contains a very, _very_ slight spoiler for the CSI Episode 507, "Formalities."

Title of chapter is from the song by Moi Caprice, "Be kind to my mistakes."

**A/N: **God, I can't believe I got reviews! It made me feel so happy! A big thank you to the people who reviewed – It means a lot to me. That's why I'm continuing the story right away. :)

A beam of light hit Catherine's closed eyes. Having worked for years as an experienced and aware CSI, she immediately sensed the disturbing morninglight, so she opened her tired eyelids and tried to get a hold of her current situation.

She wasn't at home.

The surroundings seemed familiar – a couch. A table with wineglasses. The paintings and pictures on the walls. The odd, dead butterflies behind glassframes, hanging on the wall.

She was at Gil's house. On his couch. Still dressed.

Quietly, she sat up and looked around, surprised to see Grissom next to her, still asleep, head to the armrest, feet still reaching the floor. His glasses were on the tip of his nose, slightly vertical. She smiled at the sight, but decided not to wake him.

Instead, she got up from the couch and straightened her dress, while she thought about how awful she probably looked. Knowing where Gil's bathroom was, she headed towards it, entered the door that led to it, and sighed.

He had a very simple, sophisticated-looking bathroom; only the usual things – a toilet, washbasin, a mirror, a few towels and a shower – were to find, but it was far by enough. Right now, the only thing Catherine needed was a mirror.

She looked into it, both shocked and horrified – her face. She looked like crap. Her mascara had floated to beneath her eyes, making her look like something from another world. And her dress. It was all crumpled together.

"You've looked worse," a voice spoke.

"Thank you, Gil. I feel so much better now." Catherine responded without looking towards the door where he was standing.

Somehow, she could tell – without looking at him – that he was smiling.

"Nothing to smile about," she spoke lowly, trying to make her hair look human.

"Who said I was smiling? Besides, you _do_ look okay."

"Okay ain't enough," she complained softly.

Gil took a few steps towards her. She expected him to say something nicer, but he didn't. Instead, he changed the subject.

"I understand that we must've fell asleep yesterday evening."

Catherine finally turned to him – he was still wearing last night's suit, but his hair was messy, and so were his trousers.

"Tell me about it," she said, turning to the mirror again, "I figured it out when I looked into the mirror."

He laughed slightly and walked to where she stood.

They were both standing a few moment in front of the mirror, watching themselves.

The situation reminded Catherine of a moment similar to this, that had taken place some years ago – she had helped Gil to bind his tie just before he was going to make a speech for Conrad Ecklie – but of course he had received a very important call, leaving **her **behind to finish the speech. It was a memory that she wasn't fond thinking of, but somehow, it always brought warm feelings to her body.

"You should be going," Grissom said, in his usual way.

Catherine rolled her eyes and turned to him.

"Give me a _break._ It's Saturday."

He smirked.

"Las Vegas never sleeps."

She realised that they were standing quite close; only a few inches separated them. She looked at him. Then to the floor.

"Ugh. You're right. I should.. go."

Catherine noticed that Gil was hesitating in either saying or doing something. He opened his mouth to speak, but ended up staying quiet.

"Yeah.. I'll, uh, see you. At work."

Catherine nodded, a bit disappointed, and walked out of the room. Shortly after, Gil heard the front door being opened; a moment of silence before it was closed – and then it was shut.

His hand reached his forehead; and immediately, he regretted the words he had left unspoken.


	4. Losing Myself

**Uncertain Times. Chapter 4 – "Losing Myself"**

**Disclaimer:** I _still_ don't own CSI or anything related to it.

**A/N:** Ahh! 10 reviews! Dear Lord. I am SO grateful to all the wonderful people who reviewed – you don't know how much it means to me. A big hug to all of you; lemonjelly, kiara-malfoy, Muzzy-Olorea, Britt X3, Hand-made Freak, Uhm.What, jana82, dukespencer2, loviegurlie and Crazy Abby. You're the greatest:) And that's why I'm continuing the story right away.

* * *

xoxoxo

It had been four days since Gil and Catherine had last spoken.

Four days with paperwork. Four days with bad weather. Four days with evidence that had been washed away by the rain.

Four days with absolutely no purpose, at **all.**

Gil was spending most of his time in his office, behind his desk, reading. Reading, writing, going through solved cases, going through dead-end cases.

He didn't complain, but he didn't enjoy it either. Something was missing. Some_one_ was missing.

Of course, Catherine.

He didn't want to think of her – not that she wasn't nice thinking of – but she reminded him of his stupidity.

Besides, he hadn't seen her much. Just a few times when she passed his office, he managed to catch a glimpse of her before she was gone. This happened rarely, though, and he found it strange why she didn't said "good morning" when she checked in, or "see you tomorrow" when she checked out, as she usually did.

It was _his_ fault. But he didn't want to think of it. It interrupted his work. He needed peace. Silence.

Why did he ask her to come to dinner at the first place? He didn't have the time for a relationship. His work would always come in the way – he had experienced the same thing years ago with Teri Miller.

But Catherine – it was a different situation. They weren't actually having a relationship. They were friends, had been it for years, and he didn't want to ruin anything. But he feared that he had already done so.

Giving one last thought to the strange relationship, he returned to his paperwork.

xoxoxo

..: At a crimescene, outside of Las Vegas :..

Catherine looked up from her camera, turned it around and wiped off the water from the lens – the rain was pouring down from the sky, and it had already destroyed the evidence that she and Nick hadn't processed yet.

"Hey Nick," she called to the younger Texan, "take a look at this."

The drenched CSI left the almost invisible footprint he was examining and joined Catherine.

"Damn. Looks like some sort of - I dunno – a foot, maybe?" he said while crouching down to look closer at Catherine's finding.

"Yeah. You should bag it and take it back to the lab," she answered while pointing at his car.

Nick looked at her while removing a few raindrops from his face.

"Why don't you?" he asked, his Texan accent being visible, "_you_ found it."

Catherine looked at him, confused.

"Not sure I understand?"

He gave her one of his smirks.

"Well, you know, word goes 'round fast."

She put her hands on her hips.

"What have you heard? What, Greg is having fun again?"

Nick rose and started to walk back to his car to find a bag.

"All I heard is, that you and Gris – well, I heard you guys are having trouble," he said as he waved his hands, like surrendering.

Catherine gaped.

"What is _wrong _with you guys?" she protested, "why --- who told you this? Nick!"

He laughed while getting the bags from his kit.

"Oneguess."

"Greg!"

"Hey Cath, don't be too rough on him, he ---"

But Catherine had already gone to her car and turned the engine on. As she drove off, Nick heard her yelling out of the window.

"And I am **not** done with you, Nick Stokes!"

Nick smiled.

xoxoxo

..: Las Vegas Crime Lab :..

With loud, clicking steps, Catherine marched down the hallway at the lab, heading for DNA.

She could already see the young Greg Sanders behind the glasswalls, and this made her even more furious.

She opened the door and shut it behind her.

"Greg," she addressed him, arms crossed over her chest, her heels clicking impatient on the floor.

He turned his chair in a single movement and flashed a wide smile. His hair was spiky, as usual.

"Helloo, Catherine. What brings you to my," he laughed a little, "_domain_?"

"Quit the acting. I'm serious."

"Feisty."

"Greg!"

"Excuse me. What can I do for you? A DNA sample?"

"You know why I'm here. The rumour you've been spreading around."

"A_ha!_ The rumour!" he clasped his hands. "Well, actually, it's not just a rumour, is it?" he gave her a daring grin.

"Greg, tell me – who've you told this to?"

"Those who wanted to _know_," he said cryptically.

Catherine simply gave him a look that could kill.

Greg stood from his chair and took a step towards her.

"Just a few," he answered in a negotiation-kind of way, "Nick, Warrick. I might have told Sara, too. I mentioned a few words to our dear Captain Brass, aswell."

"What is your problem?"

"I'm sorry."

"You'd better be. Just --- shut up from now on, will ya?"

He nodded, almost grateful for Catherine not being more angry.

"Does Grissom know?"

"I wouldn't think so, no," he answered in a humble voice.

As fast as she had entered the DNA-lab, as fast did Catherine exit it again – this time, headed for Gil's office.

xoxoxo

She knocked on the door and entered immediately.

She found Gil in his usual way – buried in his paperwork, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," she started.

He looked up at her in surprise and lay down his paper.

"Catherine? I, uh – it's good to see you."

She smiled at his statement and took a few steps closer to his desk.

"Good to see you, too. I, uh, have to speak with you. It's important."

He was silent for a moment, but when he realised what she had said, he suddenly became confused and made a gesture for her to sit down, and she did so.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I think we have a problem."

"Oh. What kind of problem?"

She wanted to mention Greg and his rumours, but decided not to.

Besides, the rumours **had** been kind of true – Gil and her had been distancing themselves from eachother lately; not something she was fond of, but she could feel Gil hesitating, so she had figured that maybe.. this wasn't what he wanted.

Instead, she hurried and changed the subject of interaction.

"We have a foot – probably from a dead person – found in the desert."

Gil, having hoped she would bring another subject for them to talk about, exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

"Have we identified the foot's previous owner yet?"

"Nope. Nick's having it transferred to DNA sooner or later."

There was a long, unpleasant silence in the office. Gil cursed himself inside for not being able to speak – again.

"Well, I'm going now – I have paperwork to do," Catherine said and rose from the chair, heading for the door.

"Wait---," Gil raised his hand for her to stop. She turned to him without speaking; her blonde hair caressing her shoulders, bare because of the tanktop she was wearing.

"Catherine, it has, uh, been a while." He felt awkward when she didn't answer him. "What I'm saying is.. I want you to stay."

She looked at him surprised. Then she gave him a warm smile.

"You know, I _really_ have paperwork – and I'm talkin' paperwork with capital P."

Gil looked to his document again, disappointed.

"Of course you do. I'll talk to you later."

"_But_," she continued, making him look at her, astonished, "I think I might just be able to finish it later. That is, of course, if you're letting me walk from here before my shift is completely over."

He smirked, feeling a rock fall from his heart.

"I think that's going to be hard."


End file.
